Losing You
by asteristar
Summary: Loss is truth. It haunts you, always reminding you of the things you could have done, of the things you did do. Loss is a lie. It gives you insight into all that you saved by making the choices you did, insight into all you've cursed by choosing this path


Losing You

A/N: This is a rewrite of the ending of "Woman in the Garden", a scene which just about screamed, "Write a fan fiction about me!" I changed something in the earliest part of the scene (where Booth goes all alpha male on the guy), but I don't really explain the change outright, so read carefully. It makes everything later on make sense a little more. :D

Spoilers: Woman in the Garden

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. And I named the agent who tells Booth about the hit on Temp Benson.

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_Loss is truth._ _It surrounds and penetrates you even as you seek to escape it. It coils aroun your heart and refuses to let go, and you sit in the dark wondering when this will leave you and find another to plague. But it never does. Like the truth, it haunts you, always reminding you of the things you could have done. Always reminding you of the things you did do. It confronts you with brutal honesty, and leaves too much room for thought. It shows you despair. The world seems empty, and you can only think._

Booth sat in the car, staring blankly at the dashboard. His expression betrayed no emotion, but his dark eyes were a whirlpool of fear. His hands gripped the steering wheel firmly, knuckles white as his fingers tightened in their vice-like hold on the wheel. He could feel the adrenaline and dread rushing through him, remnants of his recent encounter with the man called Ortez.

His gun rested in his lap, and Booth could still feel the cool metal under his fingers as he promised to kill the man who had threatened his Bones, should any harm come to her. He could still feel the way his heart had stopped when the gang leader had told him that something might have already happened. And anyone who knew Booth knew that he was not a man to make idle threats.

A noise on the street corner he was parked by startled him out of his thoughts. He glanced quickly at the clock and cursed under his breath. The funeral. He was supposed to be there by now. He pulled out of the parking spot and drove to the cemetery, his car barely adhering to the speed limit. He could imagine the look on her face as he pulled up late. But it would be worth it, just to see her alive. Because she _was _alive. There was no way he would let things be any different. But there was a small voice of doubt inside his head that whispered dreams of death. Wait – not dreams. Nightmares.

He slowed the car as he neared the funeral, smiling sadly at the large number of people attending the ceremony. He parked the car carefully and watched through the tinted window as the funeral drew to a close. From his vantage point, Bones was not visible, and he felt his heart begin to race in fear. Angela was there, yes, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. He shifted in his seat, anxious for the funeral to be over. He had to know she was alive.

The guests began to disperse, and he exited the car as fast as he could while retaining some dignity. The figure next to Angela turned in his direction, and his breath caught in his throat as he recognized her. She looked disappointed and hurt, and while he knew why, he couldn't find it in himself to regret what he had done.

He approached her quickly at a pace somewhere between running and walking. She took a step towards him, opening her mouth to speak, but he simply wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. She went stiff in his embrace, but he was strangely flattered when she did not try to pull away. After a few moments, he released her and held her away at an arm's length, examining her for any injury.

"What the hell, Booth?" she asked him with an irate tone laced through her voice. He could tell she was completely confused by his show of affection towards her, but he didn't care.

"Nothing," he said with a smile on his face. "I'm just glad you're okay."

She raised her eyebrows, a skeptical look crossing her face. "Booth, have you had too much to drink?" He shook his head, hands still resting on her shoulders. She frowned. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

He shrugged, and chose the safest words he could without revealing anything too soon. "Cases with gangs involved have never been the safest." He glanced over at Angela, who had made her way over to Temperance's car. Angela was obviously assuming that Temp would be going with him, and he was happy to oblige. He didn't want to let her out of his sight more than was necessary.

"Booth, what's up?" she asked carefully. The anger was gone from her voice, replaced by concern.

He froze. Before, during the drive, he had been certain that he would tell her about what had passed, but now his certainty was fast disappearing. She would worry too much, or worse, not enough. But he owed it to her. He owed her the truth.

"I was in the office today," he began slowly, his eyes fixed on her face, gauging her reaction. "Benson came up to me and told me something a little worrying." He paused, still unsure about continuing.

"Well?" she asked, prodding him forwards in his relation of his story. He let go of her and proceeded to pace back and forth in front of her, one hand resting on his hip and the other alternating between rubbing the back of his neck and gesticulating wildly during his speech.

"Benson told me that Ortez, the gang leader, had put a hit out on you." She looked confused, and he smiled apologetically. "It means that Ortez had ordered that any member of his gang who saw you should kill you." Her eyes widened, and he could see the shock in her expression. He continued. "Now, naturally, I won't stand for something like that. So I went to the street corner we started the case with. I did a sort of stake out, and when I finally saw him, I followed him around the corner, and, well, I intimidated him." Intimidated was a careful word choice on his part. He didn't want to mention the part where he had held a gun inside the man's mouth and had been quite prepared to pull the trigger. But she knew him too well.

"Intimidated him, Booth? Care to explain just what that entails?" she asked suspiciously. He shifted uncomfortably, his face twisting into an embarrassed expression.

"Um, no, Bones, not really," he answered, hoping desperately she would let it lie at that. Yeah, right. Let it lie? Like that was really going to happen.

"Tell the truth, Seely," she reprimanded firmly. He was startled by the sudden use of his first name, and knew she was serious

"I held a gun to his head," he confessed quietly. "I threatened to kill him if anything ever happened to you. When I asked him if he understood, he looked a little unsure, so I put the gun in his mouth and asked him again. English might not be his first language, but he understood after that. I took a few steps away, but I turned around and pointed the gun at his head again, just to make sure the lesson stuck." He paused, unable to look at her. "I hope to God it did."

He was utterly surprised when her hand connected soundly with his cheek. His head jerked up as she slapped him again. When she raised her hand a third time, he caught her wrist in his hand and backed her up against a nearby tree, hoping that some sort of defensive action would snap her out of this sudden attack. She seemed to break down as her back hit the trunk of the tree, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as she drew in deep breaths shakily. He had no idea why she was crying, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know.

"How could you, Booth?" she asked accusingly, blue eyes fixing on his own. "How could you put your life in danger like that? How could you not tell me about a threat on my own life before you did something about it? You had no right to do that, no right. What would I do if you had died, Booth? You are the only one who cares, the only one. I need that, Seely, it's what keeps me sane."

She was hurting and it was his job to comfort her. But he had no idea what to say. He could only tell her the reason behind his actions.

He stepped away from her and closely examining his shoes in an attempt to avoid eye contact. "I couldn't lose you, Temperance," he said quietly, his voice breaking. "I just couldn't lose you."

He couldn't see the expression on her face, but he heard the quiet laugh that escaped from her in between her silent sobs. He turned to face her, a perplexed expression on his face. She smiled apologetically as she wiped tears from her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Booth," she said quickly before he could speak. "I really am. I shouldn't have laughed, but it's just kind of funny."

"Why?" he asked, a hint of anger showing through his curiosity.

"You won't lose me, Seely," she said gently. "You'll never lose me."

He stood still, not daring to move for fear of breaking the comfortable stillness that followed. She stood in the shade of the tree, her reddish hair catching the gentle rays of sunlight that filtered through the leaves. A smile sparkled in her eyes and graced her lips as she watched him. He was caught in the moment and couldn't bring himself to break it. But she did it for him, stepping close to him and draping her arms around his neck. She laid her head on his chest and sighed contentedly. He returned the gesture, wrapping both arms around her waist and tucking her head beneath his chin. They stayed like that for a few moments, but she began to shift uncomfortably in his arms.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Your gun is digging into my hip bone," she explained, moving around and pushing at the holster holding the weapon. He released her and removed the gun from the holster, twirling it idly in his fingers.

"Well, maybe I should find a better place for it," he said with a grin. She raised her eyebrows at him, an intrigued expression on her face.

"And where might that be?" she asked coyly.

He tilted his head to one side as if contemplating her worth. "Maybe I should give it to you," he mused, examining the gun in his hands.

"You're serious?" she asked eagerly. He nodded.

"You have Ortez to thank for that," he informed her. "I won't always be around to keep you safe, Bones." She laughed at his reasoning, but the glint in his eyes told her how real his concern was. Her expression sobered, and she nodded slowly.

"Thank you, Booth," she told him sincerely. He nodded absently, his eyes fixed on hers as he stepped closer to her.

"I only want one thing in return, Bones," he told her with a roguish grin.

"Oh? And what's that?" she responded, knowing exactly what he had in mind. It was Booth, after all.

"This," he shot back as he pulled her against him and pressed his lips to hers.

_Loss is a lie. It lets you believe and opens your eyes, even as you seek to disprove it. It protects your heart and keeps you safe, and you sit in the dark thanking and cursing the one who brought this bitter blessing on you. You're not sure of your sanity. Like a lie, it gives you insight into all that you saved by making the choices you did. Gives you insight into all you've cursed by choosing this path. It confronts you with ambiguous trust, and leaves too much room for hope. It shows you faith. The world seems brighter, and you can only love.

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_ A/N: Cheesy ending, I know, but I couldn't help it. This was intended to be a two-chapter story, but I seem to be unable to write a "Bones" story that's longer than a chapter. Oh, well.


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